On having a pair of beytsim.

I don’t feel so bad now; all the other kids are freaking out in their travel blogs. I am calm and collected. This is because the whole trip is completely surreal. I just googled what the airport looks like, because I’ve only ever seen in from the turnpike.

Side note: I need to learn more Yiddish, because that seems to spice up the blog if you pepper it with “shlemiel”, “bubkes”, “chutzpah”, “kvetch” or the original root for “cockamamie”, which is … “kakameyme”?
See? We’re learning.

I spent this week learning basic Welsh, and last night was spent copying down Dutch tourist phrases. Basically, I know enough to start a barfight or pick up a hooker. Or talk about lions. Because I’d want to do all of those things, preferably at the same time.

I’d like to document for the world,
at this important moment in time,
that my father is mowing the lawn.

Some people have weird releases.

Anyway, the next post will be direct from London,
so I’ll see you there! (Or I won’t.)
Stick a right wicked googly and cheerio!